


What Do You Know About Code?

by orphan_account



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Programmer Elsa, Unrelated Anna/Elsa (Disney)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Written for the prompt - Anna saying: "Oh, and you should know - your script stinks worse than garbage."





	What Do You Know About Code?

“I cannot _believe_ how hot it is in here,” Anna says in one exhausted breath as she falls back against Elsa’s soft, black futon.

The pointed click-clack of Elsa’s mechanical keyboard is all the response she gets. The sound of it, or the heat, or maybe the fact that Anna had been in Elsa’s apartment for fifteen minutes without getting more than the briefest of acknowledgement, was driving her towards an edge she wasn’t sure she had the energy to cross right now.

It’s not that Elsa was annoying her. In fact, Anna had always been impressed with her work ethic. She was one of those special few who had the privilege of working mostly from home, which made her somewhat of a curiosity at the office. Elsa was quiet, direct and confident in a way that many of her co-workers misunderstood as haughty superiority.

Misunderstood. Anna thought that was quite the understatement. Anna had been assigned as Elsa’s… _handler_. She hated that her boss had used that word, and the fact that he thought because she and Elsa had attended the same school that this somehow meant Anna would be the best one to manage her.

_Be careful with her. She’s vicious._

Anna had to hold her tongue, swallowing her own strange sense of pride in order to keep her job. Her boss didn’t understand a damn thing, and he was wrong. Still, Elsa didn’t seem to care what other people thought about her. She was so absorbed in her own work. Anna couldn’t help but find a certain interest in her.

It seemed like all Elsa was interested in at the moment was finishing her assignment.

“Do you have like, air conditioning in here?” Anna drawled, lifting her legs up onto Elsa’s coffee table. Despite being one of those shut-in types, Anna was always surprised to see how immaculately clean Elsa kept her living areas, and she was so thankful that Elsa wasn’t able to see her trainwreck of a flat.

“Hasn’t been working for days,” Elsa replied shortly.

“What about a fan or something?”

“Hate the sound,” Elsa responded.

“Ice water?”

“No ice.”

Anna said nothing as the click-clacking sound of the keyboard intensified. She shot up from the futon and strode over to Elsa’s L-shaped desk, putting her elbows down on the frosted glass. She had made sure to wear one of her lowest-cut tops. She waited for Elsa’s eyes to wander.

But they didn’t.

Her eyes, beautifully blue, intense beyond all reason, were glued to a screen filled with code. Anna looked over at the screen. Line after line after line of characters and numbers. Of course, Elsa’s skill had always fascinated Anna. They had both gone to school as Comp Sci. majors, but Anna had fallen off that track and ended up in Business school. She watched the lines of code grow, and her eyes settled on Elsa’s lips. They were parted, and every so often her tongue would dart out to wet them.  Anna’s heart jumped, and she pushed herself up.

“Okay, you know what? You need to eat. Let’s get food.”

“Order delivery,” Elsa mumbled, “Get whatever you want.”

“That’s… damn it, why do you always act like this?” Anna’s frustration got the better of her, and she hated how it edged it’s way into her voice. She knew Elsa was on a deadline. She had meant to come to support her. And now, she was doing… this.

Elsa’s fingers paused for a moment. Just the briefest of moments, before continuing on at arthritis-inducing speeds once more.

“I’m not _acting_ like _anything_ ,” Elsa snapped back, and Anna couldn’t help but get a thrill from the sudden emotion she felt behind Elsa’s response.

“Yes, you are. You’re acting like it’s going to be the end of the world if you don’t finish this by tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Elsa replied, setting her jaw, “To make sure I finish?”

“Well, if you responded to my emails, or my phone calls, or my fucking texts... maybe I wouldn’t _have_ to be here,” Anna rallied, commanding all of her strength to stand up to Elsa’s cool demeanor.

“I don’t need you here. I can take care of this on my own.”

“No, you really can’t,” Anna replied with frustration, “You’re already behind. Oh, and you should know - your script stinks worse than _garbage_.”

Elsa smiled slightly, and it set Anna into a whole new level of pissed off. It was as if Elsa was proud of her inability to be a normal person.

“What do you know about code, Anna?”

“Don’t fucking laugh. You’re… impossible!” And now Anna, the level-headed, collected, professional Anna, sat in silent horror as she watched herself fly off the handle. Elsa’s delicate fingers still hovered above the keys.

“You don’t know what it’s like at the office, they’re fucking brutal, and I’m out there just enduring it while you get to sit here and…” She stops, and Elsa goes very still. She was listening to every word. Anna finally had her attention, but she couldn't pull back.

“I wanted to help you, but you won’t fucking let me!” Anna’s voice pitched, and Elsa turned her head to look up at her, eyes behind her glasses widening as she saw the tears forming at Anna’s eyes. Anna, realizing her vulnerability, tore her gaze away. She stumbled to the futon, grabbing her bag and clutching it in her hand, but she lost her balance and fell across the edge of it.

“Fucking… hell, I hate this futon!” she yelled, mind reeling at the absurdity of her statement. What the hell was she doing? This was… not going at all like she had planned, in any sense, be it professional or otherwise. She had even done her hair in those twin braids. The ones she had noticed Elsa eyeing one of the first times they had met. It wasn’t enough. Probably wouldn’t ever be enough. And now, she would quietly crawl her way out of this apartment and find a hole to lie in somewhere, probably.

And that’s when she heard her gentle laughter.

Elsa had never laughed, at least not in front of Anna. Anna found her laughter surprisingly nice. It wasn’t vindictive or mean or demoralizing. It was just… happy-sounding. Anna poked her head up from behind the futon. Elsa had turned towards her, away from the screen and she was staring back at her.

“You’re an idiot...” Elsa said as she felt a smile appearing on her face.


End file.
